i'm lucky to have met you
by liftedlorax
Summary: Logan and Piz are roommates living in Seattle, a few years after Hearst. And they go back to Neptune for a funeral. And yes, I am insane, why do you ask?


**Title:**i'm lucky to have met you (i don't care what you think)  
**Author: **Allie  
**Pairing/Characters:** Logan, Piz, Veronica (_Wallace, Mac, Logan/OC, Piz/OC, a little bit of L/V, and fake Logan/Piz_  
**Word Count: **8,895  
**Rating: **R  
**Summary:** Logan and Piz are roommates/hetero life-mates living in Seattle, a few years after Hearst. And they go back to Neptune for a funeral. And yes, I am insane, why do you ask?

**Disclaimer:** I don't own VM, or the title, which is from a Nirvana song that I was listening to while finishing this up.

**Spoilers/Warnings:** Spoils all aired episodes. It's a future fic, though, so nothing insanely explicit. There's also character death, language, and adult situations. And also mentions of slash, but it's like, fake? I guess, I'm not sure how to describe it. So yeah, there is that. And it's not nearly as sad as all my other fics. It won't make you want to kill yourself. I hope.

**A/N:**Um. Right. I don't even know.

"Honey, I'm home!"

The apartment door closes behind him with a _snap, _and Logan locks it and chains it because this is a city and there are things worth stealing here. He tosses his keys onto the table messy with mail and old issues of _Rolling Stone_ and makes his slow way into the living room, where his roommate is sitting on their leather bachelor pad sofa.

"I feel like we're overcompensating for something," he had said when they picked it out. Logan had glared at him.

"If you really expect me to split this rent with you, you need to realize I am not putting my rich boy ass anywhere near that ratty mess of a thing that came with the apartment."

Piz had sighed. "I don't remember you being this much of a diva back in Neptune."

Logan had rolled his eyes. "Well, back in Neptune I was either kicking your ass or dating the woman of your dreams, so it's not like we ever had a chance to get to know each other."

Piz nodded in that way of his. "True."

Now, Logan kicks his sneakers across the floor and collapses into a matching leather chair opposite Piz, glaring at him mockingly. "What's happened to us, Stosh?" he asks. "I remember the days when I'd get home from work and you'd be waiting at the door with a kiss and a smile and a roast in the oven. Now I don't even get a nod. Have we drifted that far apart?"

His roommate glares back at him, not so mockingly. "Dude, can you please, _please _save the not-so-ambiguous gay stuff for another time? I'm not in the mood."

The taller 25-year-old fixes him with a concerned frown. "What's up? Did the fish die?" Logan cranes his head to look at the glass bowl on the table behind him, noting that their Japanese fighter fish, Thomas the Second, is not floating at the top of the water, which is a good sign. He turns back to Piz. "Nope, that's not it. Did you lose your timeslot again? I told you, man, you've gotta start going down on your boss more often. How do you think Christy gets all of her awesome slots?"

Piz shoots an annoyed grimace at him. "God, are you on something? You should not be this chipper on a Tuesday. You hate Tuesdays."

Logan shakes his head, dismissing the question with a flick of his wrist. "What's wrong with you?"

He heaves a big sigh, like he's impatient with the world, and wants it to speed the fuck up already, or leave him alone. Logan understands this feeling. He thinks it's why they get along the way they do. At 25, the two of them have insanely similar worldviews. They have both been broken down and beaten up by the same girl. They both ran away from that girl, hoping to rebuild in another city, and it had been pure coincidence that they had chosen the same one. And pure coincidence had caused them to meet up again, and coincidence has brought them where they are.

So Piz is steeling himself, looking like he did the day he told Logan that Thomas the First had died. The boys have no other pets, so this means that someone human has died. And that's worrisome.

"Wallace called," is what he says, and Wallace means Neptune, and Logan goes cold, but refuses to admit that to himself. It's been years. He doesn't care anymore. He hasn't cared for a long time. He swallows and looks at Piz's stony face.

"Well, did _his _fish die? Cause I gotta tell ya, Piz, this doom and gloom is really creeping—"

"Keith Mars died," Piz tells him, and he's studying his face closely, and Logan can't read his expression, thinks it's concern or maybe just curiosity. Because no matter how many times they tell themselves, and each other, that they're over it, over Neptune, the past is buried and Seattle is the future, they always wonder. Logan always wonders, and he knows that Piz does too, if it's the truth. If it's really all behind them, if they can really make it here without letting all that stuff fuck them up.

"Oh," is what he says, and he's quiet for a while, because _damn_. And then there's the question of what to do, where to go from here, and he thinks he might need a bunch of alcohol before he even thinks about dealing with all this.

"You okay?" Piz asks after a while, because he knows Logan, knows him well, and isn't that kind of scary?

"Sure," says Logan, in that way that says not sure, not at all. But Piz nods, because he knows him well, and prodding won't get him anywhere. "Um—what happened?"

He drums his fingers against his knees, tapping out a rhythm that Logan is to preoccupied to place. "Yeah, it's really—Wallace doesn't know much. It was a car-jacking, it seems like, and they beat him pretty bad and then shot him, but—you know her, Logan. You know how she is. She thinks it was more. She's convinced it was more. She's—"

"You're breaking the rules," Logan tells him tiredly, running a hand through his hair. Piz sighs, softer now, and gazes at Logan sadly.

"Logan—"

"No, dude," he says, shaking his head. "Look, the rules were your idea. You can't go back on them now."

"Logan," he says softly, cautiously, like Logan's rigged to blow. "We can't just ignore this. _I_ can't just ignore this. We need to—"

"You go, then," Logan says roughly. "You go ahead. Fuck her, if you want. Let her mess you up again. I'll stay here with Thomas and my nice, drama-free life. I'll send a card."

Piz rolls his eyes. "You really are a selfish fucker sometimes, you know that?"

He shrugs. "Never said I wasn't."

"You can't just—" He stops, taking a breath, changing tactics. "I have to go, Logan. I have to. And you know it's not because I'm—I don't love Veronica anymore. You know that. I have a girlfriend, and I have you, I have a good life here. But I can't just—I can't let this one go. I'd love to, you know I would, but I can't. And I don't think you can either."

Logan stands up quickly, grabbing for his shoes. "Right. I'm not talking about this. You know my position on this, I'm not gonna change my mind. You can go if you want, I won't tell Maggie you're going to see an ex-girlfriend, but I'm not going back there. It's not happening."

"Logan, come on." Piz's voice is strained, tired like it was that time when Logan got drunk at a work party with him, and puked all over Piz's girlfriend's shoes, and then used her sweater to help clean them off. Like Logan's drunk now, or childish or stubborn, like Piz is trying to get to him go to bed and Logan's sticking his tongue out.

"I'm going to Lacey's," Logan says, and he makes his way out of the living room and into the hall quick. He knocks over the _Rolling Stone _issues and tells himself he'll let Piz pick them up later, because he deserves it.

* * *

They had met up again, predictably enough, in a Starbucks.

Logan obviously saw him, and was obviously planning on ignoring him, but Piz couldn't help it. It was a familiar face, even if a rather unwelcome one, in a new city full of uncertainty and unfamiliarity. He jumped up out of his seat—22, he was, and he still couldn't get rid of his eager puppy persona—and he stepped in front of where Logan had just gotten his latte and was heading towards an empty chair.

"You've got to be kidding me," was what Logan said, and Piz forced himself not to be too disheartened at his words.

"I kid you not," Piz replied, and he grabbed Logan's latte out of his hands and set it down on his small, green, round table. Logan raised an eyebrow, and Piz sat down in front of his own latte, pointing at the other chair. The taller boy sat, still looking bemused and a little annoyed.

"Are you that desperate for attention that you're forcing me, a person you hate, to have coffee with you?"

"First of all, I'm not forcing you to do anything," Piz said pointedly. "Second of all, I don't hate you. It's been over four years since you kicked my ass that one time. I am into forgiveness. So, you are forgiven. Well, really, you were forgiven ages ago, right around the time Veronica dumped me and I joined the Scorned Exes Club and realized you were the president."

Logan took a wary sip of his latte. "You didn't answer the question."

Piz sighed. "Yes. I really am that desperate for attention. There."

"Okay then."

They talked, then, about why they were in Seattle (for Piz, it was the job at the radio station, and for Logan, it was the place on the map that the dart had hit), why they left Neptune, why they were never going back. Logan talked about finding a job so he wouldn't throw himself off the top of the Space Needle out of sheer boredom, and Piz admitted to having the same urge upon arriving in the dreary, rainy city. Then Logan mentioned he was still living in a hotel, and how uneconomical that was getting, and well, again, Piz couldn't help it.

"I need a roommate," he blurted out, voice nearly shaking in nervousness and anticipation.

Logan raised an eyebrow again, then chuckled a bit. "Dude, you need to stop drinking coffee," he said. "And also stop with the crack. It's making you delusional."

"I'm dead serious," Piz said, gripping his coffee cup hard. Okay, maybe he was a little jittery. And delusional. But he _was_ serious. "I can't deal with the rent on my place, not on the shitty salary they have me starting on. It's a two bedroom, and it's pretty big, and I can't lose it, or else I'm screwed. I would be such a _terrible _homeless person, dude. I'd die of exposure within days, I just know it. And I keep putting out ads and hanging up flyers and no one shows up. No one wants to be my roommate. It's really insulting, actually, because I'm a perfectly nice guy and I don't understand why—"

"Please stop talking," Logan said tiredly, pinching the bridge of his nose and shutting his eyes. "Please, just, no more."

"I know it sounds crazy," said Piz. "But, I mean, look. I don't know anyone here. Neither do you. You're living in a hotel, and you don't have a job yet, and I can help you out, man. We can help each other out."

Logan stood up, rolling his eyes, and tossed his coffee cup away. "Okay. I'm out. Good luck, Piz, and I hope you get that whole delusional thing checked out, and—"

"Please!" Piz blurted desperately. He ripped out a piece of paper and a pen and scribbled furiously. "Look, just, take my number and the address, just think about it—"

"Whatever," Logan said, but he took the paper and left. And Piz sighed and went back to being ignored at work, ignored by strangers on the street, ignored by his stoner neighbors. But then, on a night where he started seriously considering jumping off the top of the Space Needle once more, there was a knock on his door. He undid the lock and undid the chain and opened the door to see Logan, hands in his pocket, looking bored and also bemused, like he wasn't exactly sure why he was here.

"Right," said Logan, peering in behind Piz, at the ratty, blue plaid sofa that lay in the center of the living room. "We're going to have to do something about that couch."

One of the first things they did, besides getting a new sofa, was instate the rules. They were Piz's idea, and it's not like they wrote them down or made a blood pact or something. But both agreed that for this thing to work (and for Piz to not get his ass kicked every other week) there had to be some things they weren't allowed to talk about.

Mostly, this meant Veronica, and anything to do with Neptune, Hearst, and Logan's childhood. The past was behind them both, they agreed, and if they really wanted to start over new, it would have to stay that way.

They stayed away from the deep stuff, conversations never going deeper than a hot girl at a club the night before or a new band playing at the bar down the street, or who ate the last of Logan's Chinese food, because it was clearly marked and now it's gone. And Piz thinks that's how their friendship grew—Logan had had a lifetime of the deep stuff. He didn't need it anymore.

And he was a good friend, Logan. Because of all of his experience with the deep stuff, he was readily equipped to deal with anything shitty that happened to Piz—getting pushed around at the radio station, dumped by various girls, fights with his parents. Whenever Piz had a bad day, Logan was usually right there, with beer and video games (_Guitar Hero, _when he was feeling generous, or something more bloody when he wasn't).

Piz returned it when he could. When Logan almost got fired from his job at the magazine because he slept with his boss's wife, Piz had stepped in, taking the weepy, angry editor out for drinks and convincing him to take his anger out on his cheating wife, not the employee that didn't know any better. It worked, for the most part, and Logan kept his job and didn't complain too much when he got sent to work in the dank, dreary basement of the building. "It'll help you maintain your new, Northwestern complexion," Piz had perked, and Logan had sighed.

Three years, lots of beer, lots of girls, and it's kind of scary how close Logan and Piz are, considering. Of course, they never acknowledge this closeness, unless you count Logan's countless gay jokes, which Piz doesn't. But they are guys, so they grunt at each other in thanks and pat each other on the back and occasionally hug (when Logan's drunk). And, if he's completely honest, Piz doesn't know what he'd do without Logan now.

And therein lies the problem. Because he needs Logan—needs him to ground him, keep him steady, keep him from pitching forward into awkwardness and nervousness and that stupid fucking eager puppy act again. He needs Logan to keep him from being that guy he was in Neptune—that needy guy who got his heart stomped on by Veronica Mars.

So he can't go back without him—it's not an option. But ignoring this, just letting it go and sending a condolence card and letting something awful happen to a girl he was very much in love with once—that's not an option either.

"So," Piz tells Thomas the Second, watching as his brightly colored tail swishes around in the water. "In conclusion, T, I'm well and truly fucked."

Thomas the Second just stares back at him, solemn and silent and wise as always.

* * *

Lacey is still working, pouring drinks for the fairly busy crowd milling around at the bar. Logan seats himself on a stool and smirks at his girlfriend, in the mood to annoy and irritate and get drunk. She glares but pointedly ignores him until she has no choice but to go over and take his order.

"Please don't bug me, Logan," she says, already anticipating the onslaught of sarcasm and dry wit that's surely going to ruin her night. "I mean it. We're getting busy."

"You're off in a half hour," Logan points out. "You always complain about me never meeting you at work and walking you home and keeping you from getting mugged. Well, here I am. So I'll protect you from the muggers."

She's studying his face, in that same way that Piz does sometimes, concerned and curious but not yet willing to push. "And what made you suddenly decide to heed my complaints and protect me from the muggers?"

Logan shrugs, throwing his hands up in the and sliding off the stool. "Fine. Just _throw_ my kindness back in my face. I'll just take it elsewhere. Don't you think Piz gets scared of muggers, too?"

Lacey tucks chestnut hair behind her ear. "Logan, wait. Just—wait for me and then we'll talk. Okay?"

He opens his mouth as he sits back down, and she must know he's got a comment lined up, because she hurries away before he can get it out.

Twenty-six minutes later and they're walking down the damp sidewalk, dusk falling over the city and clasped hands swinging gently between them. They've been dating for four months now, a near record for Logan since moving to Seattle, and it's light and casual and fun but also heated, intense every once in a while, and he likes to think it's kind of balanced.

He doesn't have the same rules with her as he does with Piz, because for one thing, she can handle it, and for another, she doesn't ask about his past all that often. His past is, really, of no interest to her, which is what he likes most about Lacey. She cares about him now, not before she knew him.

However, it's times like these, when he's snarky and moody that she asks questions, because she knows him. And when he tells her about everything, she's quiet for a bit before she shakes her head.

"Piz is right," Lacey says, and Logan rolls his eyes. "You really can be selfish sometimes."

"I'm not being selfish," Logan retorts. "I'm not forbidding him to go. He can go wherever he wants. I'm not his mother."

"Yeah, but you're his best friend," she argues, and he scoffs at the term, even though it's basically true. "And I think he's probably scared to go back there without you. I mean, look at it this way. If what you've told me about Veronica is true, then she's this all-consuming she-devil that's going to suck Piz back into her dark, evil web if he goes back there on his own."

"Hello, hyperbole, my name's Logan."

"You know what I mean." Her eyes flash at him. "Do you really want to lose Piz to her?"

He sighs, jamming his free hand into his pocket. "And what about me? What if I go and get sucked back into her dark, evil web?"

Lacey grins, stopping and moving so that she's standing in front of him. She wraps her arms around his waist and leans her head into his chest. "I believe in you, Logan. I think you're strong enough to resist the all-consuming she-devil. And I think you and Piz can help each other. I really do." She smiles up at him, and he can't help but soften under her gaze. "When things get tough, you can do that secret handshake I know you two have been working on."

Logan squeezes her playfully and she squeals, poking him in the chest with a long fingernail. "We do _not _have a secret handshake."

Her laughter echoes around them as thunder rumbles and the sky threatens to open up.

It's much later when he gets home from Lacey's, and Piz is asleep on the overcompensating sofa, almost in the same position he was in when Logan left. He looks at his roommate, amused at the idea of Piz trying to wait up for him and failing, like a five-year-old on New Year's Eve. He sighs and chucks a throw blanket at him, not bothering to turn around and see if it covers him properly and he heads to bed, making a mental note to book two plane tickets the next day.

* * *

"_Caaaaaaliforniaaaaaaaa_…"

"No, Piz. Absolutely not."

"…_here we cooooome…"_

"I will kick you. I promise that I'll kick you."

Piz shuts up, so Logan can safely say that there were no dickhead DJs harmed in the duration of this drive. They pass yet another sign telling them they're getting farther and farther away from San Diego, and Logan has never hated sunshine so much. He wonders how Piz ever did it, moving from Oregon to Neptune and not dying of sun stroke.

"How much longer?" Piz wants to know, and Logan doesn't trust himself to answer him verbally and not violently. "I'm bored, dude."

"I _told_ you not to drink so much coffee, Piznarski. You know how jittery it gets you."

"I know, but I was tired. I hate planes. We should've driven."

"Fuck you. No way in hell would I be stuck in a car with you for two days. The trips to your parents' place are bad enough."

"Hey, now, you love those trips."

"I love your parents. Not the drive there and back."

"Come on, we get to yell 'Road trip!' and eat corn nuts. What's not to love?"

"Please stop talking."

They stop at a gas station and change into their suits—neither had felt like sitting on a stuffy plane for five hours wearing anything but jeans and t-shirts—and then finish the trip from San Diego to Neptune in moderate silence, since Piz found his iPod in his pocket when he took his jeans off and had been so excited he had rushed out of the stall to show Logan, who just sighed and asked him to put pants on, _please. _

The closer he gets to Neptune, and to the funeral parlor where Keith Mars is laid out, the more Logan's stomach hurts, but he doesn't mention that to Piz, who looks ready to roll out of the car and swim back to Seattle. As they pull up in front of the funeral home, Logan undoes his seatbelt and Piz takes off his headphones and looks at Logan solemnly.

"I feel like we should make some sort of bros over hoes pact or something."

"Shut up, Piz."

"No, I'm serious. What about the secret hand—"

"Shut _up, _Piz."

"We can pretend to be a couple, if that makes you feel better. Like, I'll just hold your hand or something, or—"

"Oh my God, dude, you really need to stop talking."

"So that's a no for the couple thing? Cause I honestly think it could make things easier. United we stand, you know, divided we fall, shit like that. And you could totally pass for being gay. I mean, you're practically half-gay already."

Logan resists smacking his head against the steering wheel. "Piz. We're going in now, okay? Are you going to continue to act like a hyperactive retarded person or are you going to fucking stop?"

Piz is quiet, leaning back in his seat, and Logan sighs and looks at him, his gaze softer. "Are you ready for this? Like, really, Piz? Because if not, we can go back home. Seriously, right now, we can go back to the airport and get back to Seattle and we can pick up the girls and get wasted at our place with Thomas the Second."

He shakes his head, hand gripping the door of the rental car, and he pops it open. "Come on. I'm ready."

They walk to the entrance side-by-side, and before they open the door, Logan stops. "And I am _not _half-gay."

Piz grins, and they walk in together.

* * *

The first person they talk to is Mac, who looks more grown up than any of them have a right to be. Piz doubts that she fights over who gets the last Hot Pocket with _her _roommate, and he does not covet her that maturity, because Hot Pockets are awesome. Especially the broccoli and cheese ones. The brunette looks between Piz and Logan curiously, an eyebrow raised, and he seriously thinks about grabbing Logan's hand and convincing everyone they're a couple, except he doesn't want to get his ass kicked.

So instead he grins brilliantly at Mac and, before Logan can say anything, says, "I'm Piz, and this is my hetero life-mate, Logan." Logan closes his eyes and clenches his teeth, and Mac smirks.

"Cute," she says, and Logan shakes his head slowly.

"I'm sorry," he says. "He forgot to take his medication."

Mac's smirk widens into a smile. "I see," she says, clipping her vowels. "So, are you guys like, friends, now, or something? I mean, Wallace mentioned that you both wound up in Seattle, but he never said you guys knew each other."

"We like to keep our relationship private," Piz informs her, and Logan closes his eyes again. "Away from prying eyes, you know."

"Piz," Logan spits, and Piz is fairly certain he won't punch him here, in front of all these people, but he might later. But it's not like Piz has ever been able to control his motor mouth. "Cool it with the gay stuff, okay?."

Piz blinks at him innocently. "I never said anything about us being gay. It looks you're the one with gay on the brain. Not that I blame you, of course, I _am _irresistible."

"God, help me," Logan says through gritted teeth, and Mac can't suppress a giggle.

"It's good to see you both, you know, not hating each other," she says, laying a hand on each of their arms.

"I live with him," Logan tells her. "That doesn't mean I don't hate him."

Mac's eyes widen, but Piz just cuts right in. Leaning in closer to Mac, he stage-whispers, "Don't listen to him. He loves me. He's just decided he wants to be the guy today, and let me be the girl, for a change."

"Okay," Logan says sharply, moving away. "I'm gonna go over there now. It was nice talking to you, Mac." He makes his way across the room, in the back behind the folding chairs where people are talking to each other in hushed voices, and Piz follows.

"Hey, come on," Piz says to him, kind of loudly, and Logan gives him a look and he lowers his voice. "Look, I'm sorry, dude."

"I thought you said you were going to stop. You're acting like a lunatic. Like, more so than usual. You need to chill out."

"I'm trying," Piz responds, trying to keep the strain out of his voice. "It's just nerves, man. I can't help it."

Logan sighs and gives his arm a tiny squeeze, and he knows he's forgiven. "I know. But you've got to try harder. You're going to give me an anxiety attack. It's hard enough just—"

"Logan?"

He freezes mid-sentence, goes whiter than normal, and Piz feels his heart plummet. They both turn around and there she is, eyes red-rimmed and sad, hair shorter and face thinner. He'd been preparing himself, coaching himself on the plane ride down and he should not be this freaked out, dammit. But seeing her, looking so sad and lost and of fucking course staring only at Logan, he feels all that pain all over again, all that anguish and heartbreak and longing slam into him.

Judging by the way Logan's standing with his back rigid, he's feeling the same damn thing, and at least there's that.

Suddenly, Piz seems to register on her radar, and Veronica's eyes widen. "_Piz_?"

Her eyes turn to saucers around the same time Piz feels Logan grip his hand quickly. He feels their fingers lace together—good God, what is he _doing?_—and feels his own eyes go wide.

* * *

"So," Mac says slowly as Wallace sort of gapes behind her and Veronica downs another drink. "I thought you said _hetero _life-mate?"

Logan sighs and looks at Piz, lets him field this one. It's one of the simpler questions they're going to get, he realizes, and he thinks he can handle it. He can be quick on his feet. Sometimes.

"I—I did," Piz stammers out, much like he did when Veronica asked her initial question ("Are you two…?" "Um, yes? Y—yes.") "But, well, you know, there's never a wrong time or circumstance for a Jay and Silent Bob reference."

Logan squeezes Piz's hand painfully hard where it's resting on his thigh. He once again questions his own sanity, and wishes like hell he could just take this all back. God, what a fucking nightmare. Piz kicks at his leg lightly, then tangles their ankles together. Everyone else just stares, still dumbfounded.

The funeral is over, and everyone is back at Keith's apartment. Veronica and Alicia had put out food and drinks for everybody, and Veronica had made sure to secure a few bottles of vodka before sitting down next to her two ex-boyfriends to hear a more detailed explanation. In true Veronica fashion, she has shoved her grief to the back of her mind, it seems like, focusing more on Logan and Piz and their supposed relationship.

Logan can't really explain it. One minute, he was just staring at Veronica, scared out of his mind. His stomach was aching, his head buzzing, and he just needed a way _out. _He was remembering everything—every stab of hurt, every stupid argument and painful, tearful breakup. And then, there was Piz's voice in his head, _Cause I honestly think it could make things easier. _And, well, it was instinct, really. He couldn't help it.

Things sort of just snowballed from there. Veronica just about fell over in shock, Piz turned bright red, and Logan tried desperately to signal to him what he was trying to do. He did this by digging his fingernails into Piz's palm as hard as possible and begging him mentally to stay cool, to follow his lead. And once they let Veronica reach her own conclusions, he explained it more to Piz while in the car, driving in the funeral procession.

"Dude," said Piz, staring at Logan with his eyes wide. "I was _kidding. _I mean, you called me a lunatic over it. How are we seriously having this conversation?"

"You were right, though," Logan insisted. "If she thinks we're together, she won't, like, go after either one of us. She won't suck us into her evil web again." He cursed his brain for making him sound like a total fucking insane person, but these were the only words coming to him now.

"Evil web?" Piz repeated, gaping at his roommate. "_Evil web? _Oh my God, you've lost your mind. You've fucking cracked, dude. And _I'm _supposed to be the crazy one in this—"

"Piz," he had said, voice shaky and strained. "Look, man, I'm scared, okay? We both know how much she can fuck us up. I need to be able to go back home and not want to kill myself over her. And, well, I'm scared that's not going to happen. Veronica just has this way of getting to me, man. She—she won't even try to get to me if she thinks I'm with you, and you're here, and you stay with me all the time. Do you get it?"

Piz didn't answer him for a long time. He leaned back in the passenger seat and he muttered things about fucking lunatics, about crazy plans and evil webs. It wasn't until they were pulling up into the cemetery and Logan was going to get out of the car that he grabbed his arm.

"I'm on top," said Piz, and a smile broke out over Logan's face.

"Man," Wallace says now, shaking his head. "I mean, what a thing to hide. I knew you guys were rooming together but—I mean, you told me you had a girlfriend."

"Yes," says Piz, pulling a deeply contemplative look, and Logan has to physically keep himself from squeezing his hand again, lest he cut the circulation off completely. "I mean, well, I had a girlfriend, you know? But then, once I found out that Logan had started developing some, uh, feelings for me, I—"

"He called my name out during sex," Logan interrupts, and Veronica chokes and Mac fights back giggles and Wallace is just dumbfounded. He fits a smug look on his face, and he's ten times the actor that Piz is, because his roommate is glaring at him like he wants him to die a slow, horribly painful death.

"But—" Veronica stops, the vodka starting to catch up with her and making her thought process a little slower. "But how did this _happen_? I mean, Logan—how long have you been—you know—"

Piz makes a little annoyed sound under his breath, and it sounds something like "_Evil web_," but Logan isn't sure. And now it's Piz squeezing Logan's hand like he wants to break it off. Wonderful.

"I wasn't gay when I was with you, if that's what you're asking," Logan says, and her mouth snaps shut.

"Neither was I," Piz throws in, but Veronica barely looks at him, eyes fixed on Logan, and he feels his stomach burn up over that. The old Logan would be elated over this attention, but it just pisses the new Logan off, because he doesn't want this, and Piz doesn't deserve this.

"See, what happened was, we had been living together for about a year when Logan walked into the bathroom while I was getting out of the shower," Piz goes on, and Logan fights back a snort. "And, well, he couldn't help but be attracted, you know, I really don't blame him at all. I mean, it was kind of annoying at first, you know, all the staring, but—"

"But then, Piz realized he had started to return that attraction," Logan says. He nods beside him, okay with that. "And so, one day, he jumped me."

Veronica chokes again and reaches for her vodka glass, downing it. Piz whips his head to look at him, eyes narrowing. Wallace still just looks ready to fall over. Mac just grins.

"And then they lived happily ever after."

Veronica pours some more vodka, and Piz thrusts out his glass.

Later, the subject has finally gone from Logan and Piz to Veronica, and, indirectly, Keith. The short blonde is not happy with this, not at all, but as more grievers disappear from the apartment, the less she's able to keep busy and keep avoiding the subject. Piz can see how wrecked she is over this, in the tremors in her hands and in the concealed sobs behind some of her words, and he feels his heart ache for her.

"So, you're staying here, then?" Logan asks somberly, and his voice has that perfect mix of comforting and firm that makes Piz remember just how much experience he has with this. And it makes him sad to think about that.

Veronica nods slowly. "I have to," she insists. "I can't do anything from San Francisco. I took a leave of absence from work; this is where I need to be now, figuring this out—"

"How do you know there's anything to figure out?" Piz wants to know.

"Exactly," says Logan before Veronica can retort. "There's not always a mystery everywhere."

"You know what this town is like, Logan," Veronica says, and it still burns that she's almost completely ignoring Piz, but he's getting over it. Kind of. "Nothing is random here, nothing just happens. Dad has—had—a lot of enemies."

"Is that all you're going on, V?" Logan asks quietly.

"Logan," she says, and her voice is so broken, and Piz realizes then why Logan and Veronica are so drawn to each other. It's all that shared heartbreak—all that pain and grief and baggage that they share. It's what completes them and wrecks them. He just wonders where he fits into all of this, and, well, right, he doesn't. Not for real, anyway.

Veronica doesn't have to say anything else, because Logan is sighing and shaking his head but looking at her with determination in his eyes. "Fine," he says. "But we're helping."

"But, no—" she starts, but Piz stops her.

"But yes," he says, and the firmness in his voice seems to take her by surprise, and she looks at him, like really looks at him, for the first time that night. He wonders briefly if she likes what she sees. Then he thinks about Maggie, the first girl in Seattle to really, really care about him. He thinks about Logan, the best friend he's got in the world right now, and his supposed lover. He even thinks about Thomas the Second, about the memory of Thomas the First, and he misses his place back in Seattle, and he thinks that he wouldn't give any of that up for her. And he thinks that's progress.

And he thinks it's going to be a long fucking few days.

* * *

Logan mostly just drives everywhere. Veronica, of course, is the brains of this operation, giving him directions and prepping him from the passenger seat. Piz is the comic relief, riding in the back and trying not to pout like a five-year-old.

"He's _my _boyfriend," he'd whined when Veronica had taken the front seat. "I should get to sit next to him." Logan had snorted and Veronica had just kind of stopped for a second, before shaking her head and getting herself comfortable.

"I don't think I'm ever going to get used to this," she said, and Logan snorted again and promised himself she wouldn't have to, they wouldn't be here that long.

She has her laptop open in her lap, a list of possible suspects opened up, and they're going to the first address on it. Sheriff Van Lowe has been insisting that there's nothing that makes Keith's death look like anything but a random car-jacking, and they're searching for the two guys that did it, but Veronica's intent on going after any of Keith's possible enemies, any clients that were part of jobs gone bad. Personally, Logan thinks this is a fucking stupid tactic, because it seems aimless and not at all as direct as Veronica usually is.

But what Piz keeps pointing out, and Logan is realizing, is that this isn't the usual Veronica. This is Veronica destroyed by grief, illogical and blinded by that grief. Veronica needs something to solve, something to keep her from dealing with this, and Logan really pities her because of that.

It doesn't help that they keep running into dead ends; most of the addresses they go to and the people they talk to are either really, really good actors or have no problems with Keith anymore. They are all sympathetic, all offer their condolences, and one woman even offers cookies. Piz eagerly accepts, and gives a few to Logan.

"You've been looking kind of scrawny, Echolls," he informs him, mouth full of cookie. "We don't want you wasting away."

Logan rolls his eyes but takes a cookie, and the woman beams between Logan and Piz. "They are adorable, aren't they?" the woman gushes, and Veronica blanches.

"Sure," she chirps, but Logan can see the annoyance behind her eyes. "We'll, I don't think we need anything else. If you think of anything, please let us know. Thanks so much."

"You're welcome, and I hope you feel better, dear. Take care, boys."

"Thanks for the cookies!" Piz smiles as they leave, and Veronica rolls her eyes.

"Can you not be so clingy?" she snaps at Piz. "We're trying to be professional, here."

Piz glares at her. "Can you not be so uptight?"

"She's not uptight," says Logan, smirking. "She's jealous." Piz grins evilly as Veronica glares.

"Look, I do not need you two tagging along with me if all you're gonna do is make puppy eyes at each other and gang up on me," she retorts.

"But she doesn't dispute the fact that she's jealous," Piz remarks as he tries to make a grab for the passenger door handle. Logan chuckles when Veronica stomps on his foot, glaring.

"I'm not even going to dignify that with a response," she says as she gets into the passenger seat. Piz pouts some more in the back.

"So, nothing from her, right?" Logan asks as they start driving away. Veronica shakes her head, brow furrowed. "Aren't you starting to notice something?"

"Stop, Logan," she throws back. "I know what I'm doing."

But it continues like this, at least for the next three days. They drive to different locations, talk to different people, dig up different stuff, and none of it points to anything they can use. Logan can see Veronica's composure start crumbling away as a few more days go by, and he feels his heart start aching for her again. And then Piz is behind him, eyes mirroring the same sympathetic look, and he grabs his hand and gives it a squeeze because that's supposed to help, right? This thing with them? Except it's not helping that much; he feels himself grow more and more attached to Veronica as she deteriorates, and that's a problem.

He wants to hightail it back to Seattle more with each passing moment, and yet he doesn't.

* * *

The cute redhead behind the counter at Starbucks reminds him of Maggie; Piz grins widely at her, perusing that boyish charm he's sure he was born with, and the redhead smiles back. Logan rolls his eyes and grabs his and Veronica's coffees as Piz strikes a conversation with the girl, flirting kind of clumsily. Logan heads back and has a seat with Veronica, who's typing furiously on her laptop.

Out of the corner of his eye, Piz sees Logan looking at Veronica, who pays no attention. He sees something flash over Logan's face and then he's snapping his head to look at Piz. And then he's getting up. Dread curls into his stomach and he thinks about making a run for it, but the redhead is mid-babble and he's always been against rudeness.

"Darling," Logan says as he gets closer to Piz, wrapping an arm around his waist. Piz feels the heat of his palm against his hip and he fights against closing his eyes, feels a blush creeping over his cheeks. "Why aren't you sitting down? It's lonely over there without you."

The redhead stops, looks between Logan and Piz, and then giggles. "Oops," she says. "I'm sorry, I thought—"

"It's fine," Logan tells her, tightening his hold on Piz. "Lots of people don't see it at first. You're not the first girl to hit on him. Right, stud?" There's laughter behind his voice, and Veronica is staring at the two of them with a look that's halfway between amused and annoyed.

"Come on," Piz says through gritted teeth, and they head to their table as the girl waves to them brightly. He really wants to wrench himself out of Logan's grasp, but Veronica's sipping her coffee and looking at them and she's buying it, so he can't.

"Well, at least some things haven't changed," Veronica says icily. "You're still possessive as hell."

Logan chuckles mirthlessly, smirking into his cup. "Oh, and like you weren't? I seem to remember you tracking me with the GPS chip in my phone."

Piz looks at Veronica with wonder. "Hey, you never tracked me."

Veronica doesn't look at him, only eyes Logan. "That's because I trusted you, Piz."

The look on Logan's face then makes Piz's stomach hurt, and he hates Veronica in that second. His friend shifts uncomfortably in his seat, glaring down at the table with a kicked puppy look that Piz has only ever seen in a mirror. Almost without thinking, he slings an arm around Logan's shoulders, squeezing lightly. "Yeah, well, _I_ trust Logan, so I guess you were just paranoid." Logan doesn't look at him, but his eyes brighten just a little, so Piz knows he appreciates this.

Veronica snorts and sips at her coffee, and Piz feels Logan tense beneath his touch. He's afraid Logan's going to just take off, but then Veronica's cell phone rings. "It's Sacks," she says quietly, and she answers it and listens and her face goes white.

"What happened?" Piz asks as she hangs up the phone. Logan is silent, still not looking at anybody.

"They found the guys that did it," Veronica tells him, her words clipped and icy. "Escaped prisoners, apparently, that needed a getaway car. The witness I.D.'d them, and they're being held without bail." Her breath seems to be catching in her chest, and she blinks furiously.

"That's—that's good, though, right?" Piz says, voice soft but not as sympathetic as he'd like. He's finding it really hard to be sympathetic with Veronica right now—maybe she's grieving, but she doesn't have to take it out on Logan, who's only trying to help. "I mean, it's over now, right?"

"Let's just go," she says suddenly, getting up abruptly and gathering her laptop. Logan follows silently, and Piz is confused and suddenly gloomy, like he can't quite get what's happening and that's depressing him.

He was never good at understanding Veronica—she had seemed like an easy girlfriend in the beginning, kind and gentle and always there for him, whatever he needed. But after a while, he started realizing that it wasn't quite real—her smiles never reached her eyes, there was never a tender moment without a quip or comment that would lighten it. It was like she was _afraid _to be serious with him, and it seemed to piss her off when he started wanting that seriousness. He was throwing everything into the relationship, and she seemed to only give a part of her, refusing to allow him to see the other parts. She didn't trust him, Piz thinks, no matter what she believes.

And that's why he'll never be able to understand her—she won't let him. And he thinks he's starting to be okay with that. He thinks he doesn't want to understand why she treats Logan like shit, because there's really no excuse for that. He doesn't want to figure out why Veronica doesn't care about him—he's got a girlfriend, and a best friend, and a fish that all care about him more than she ever could.

So when they pull up in front of Keith's apartment complex and Logan offers to walk Veronica to her door and Veronica reluctantly agrees, Piz is not jealous. Piz is only worried about Logan—he can see the hurt and the longing all over Logan's face, and it scares him. He doesn't want to lose Logan to Veronica—Piz has his closure now, he doesn't need to be here anymore, but Logan has so much more to close.

But he wasn't lying when he said he trusts Logan. And he does. So when Logan looks at him and puts on a brave face as Piz climbs up into the passenger, he trusts that he'll come back. He trusts that Logan will come back to the car and they'll drive back to the airport and go back to Seattle and see their girlfriends again, see Thomas the Second, and they'll have their lives back. He knows it.

* * *

Veronica's trying really, really hard not to cry, he can tell, as she unlocks her door. She sniffles once, then turns to him and smiles as brightly as she can.

"You can come in, if you want." His first instinct is to say no, to run back to the car and back to Piz. But of course, his stupid fucking mouth does not listen to his brain, as it rarely does when he's around her. So he says yes and follows her in and she pours him a drink.

"I didn't—I mean, I didn't get to thank you for helping me," she says sadly. "And Piz, too, thank him for me."

"We didn't do much, Veronica," Logan tells her. "There wasn't much to do."

"Yeah." She sniffles again, and he sighs heavily, setting his drink on the counter.

"I don't get why you're so upset. They caught the bad guys, you know? Justice is served. Cops _can _do their own jobs every once in a while."

"I know, I know, it's just…" Veronica trails off, and then the tears come suddenly, like a dam breaking, and they're rolling down her cheeks and he can't help wanting to take her in his arms, really, he can't. But he doesn't, because he still has some self-control, and Piz is waiting in the car and Lacey is waiting in Seattle. "I mean, I needed to do this, you know? He's dead and I can't control that, I can't fix that, but I felt like if I could find the killers, solve the mystery, then it would be okay again." She lets out a broken sob and leans forward, and now she really is in his arms, her scent all around him, and this is making him crazy.

"It doesn't make things okay again, though," Logan murmurs. "It didn't with Lilly, did it? It took a long time for us to be okay after Lilly. You know that."

She nods against his chest, tears staining through his shirt, and it's really quite unbelievable. He never, ever thought she'd break down like this, let him see her like this, not again. "I—I know. But—" Veronica lets out another sob, and he tightens his hold on her and lets her cry for a few minutes. But then she's looking up at him, and he knows that look—he knows what's coming, and he doesn't stop her, and he thinks that's what pisses him off most.

When she's kissing him, it's a lot like everything he used to dream about. It's like hope, like maybe this is their time—maybe they can be better for each other now.

But then there's reality—and the reality of it is that she can't be better. Not yet. Not when she's still grieving and broken and looking for mysteries that don't exist.

"Wait," he mumbles into her mouth as she tries to deepen the kiss. She pulls back and looks him with hurt, wet eyes, and his stomach clenches but he shakes his head. Says the first thing he can think of. "Piz."

Veronica turns beet red, and her jaw drops a little bit but she doesn't let go of him. "Oh—um—I'm sorry, I didn't mean to—"

"We're not a couple, Veronica," Logan tells her tiredly, not really caring at this point if she flips out. "We just said that because we didn't want you getting between us. We're best friends. He—we have this great life in Seattle. And I can't—we can't let you pull us back."

"Oh," Veronica says, letting go of Logan now and taking a step back. "Um."

"I love you, Veronica," Logan tells her honestly. "I think I always will. But I'm—I'm okay now. I'm better. I've moved on, and I have a career and a girlfriend and a fish, and I have Piz. And I don't—I don't think that you and me would be a good idea."

She's closing off now, he can almost feel it. She huffs a little, getting her breathing back in control. "Logan, I kissed you, I didn't propose to you. Please, don't flatter yourself. You don't have to convince me we're a bad idea. I actually think you should convince yourself. Pretending to be gay to keep from falling for me again seems kinda desperate."

The bite in her voice is enough to make him sigh, but he gets it. For all of her cleverness, Veronica Mars is pretty damn predictable.

They don't exchange promises or heartfelt goodbyes when he leaves, but he's still pretty hopeful. Maybe someday, years from now, when she's grown up more and gotten to be okay, and he's a little more mature and his life is a little more defined, they can be friends. He doesn't bank much on that, though, and he's pretty okay with that. He's not sure Seattle would agree with Veronica, and he knows he's never leaving.

He likes the rain. It's not nearly as gloomy as the memories illuminated by the Neptune sunshine.

* * *

Maggie didn't want to tell them over the phone.

She and Lacey are waiting for them outside their apartment, looking solemn and sad. "You gave me the wrong key," Maggie tells Piz. "We couldn't get in. I'm so sorry."

He feels his face fall and sees Logan's do the same.

They walk into the apartment slowly, but Logan's quick to hurry to Thomas the Second's fishbowl. Piz hears him say, "Dammit," and he closes his eyes, not wanting to see the small, brightly colored body floating up on top of the water.

"I'm sorry," Maggie says, and Lacey echoes that, going over to stand next to Logan, who's still peering into Thomas' watery grave.

"He was a good fish," Lacey says, and Piz nods. Logan looks at him.

"Maybe we should get a cat."


End file.
